Until I hear Aunt Franny say something.
“—surprised she has the guts to move back to Beauty, frankly, since whatshisname is out of the navy and back in town.”
Hold up a minute. What’s this all about, now?
I look up at Evie on the bed.
She looks down at me with wide eyes.
Aunt Franny is talking about my mom … and some guy. Some navy guy.
“Who’s ‘whatshisname,’ Mom?” Evie asks when I prompt her by yanking at her pajama pants leg and mouth the question. “Who are you talking about?”
“I can’t remember his name. It was high school.”
“High school? Why would Aunt Winona care about someone from high school?” Evie says. “What’s up with this mystery man? Spill the beans, Mom.”
Her mom is silent for a moment. “No one, baby. I shouldn’t have said anything. That’s all in the past, and not our business.”
“Mom—”
“Evie,” her mom says over the laptop screen, “that’s enough. If Winona wanted us to gossip about her, she’d tell us herself. End of story.”
Great. Mom will never tell me, and I definitely won’t be asking.Mom will shut that down faster than a food inspector visiting a rat-infested pizza parlor. But now I’m super curious about Navy Man, who was possibly some boy in high school … who would have been reason enough to stop my mom from coming back to Beauty?
Now I’m remembering when we first came into town and how nervous she was, and I thought it was all the town gossip or possibly the Saint-Martin curse. But now I wonder if it’s something more.…
I ponder this while Evie asks her mom about Grandma Diedre, who refuses to participate in these calls—they have no Wi-Fi in their living quarters, and she hates having to walk down to a local internet café. And just when I’m thinking of leaving Evie’s room to give them some privacy, my phone buzzes inside the pocket of my shorts. A text from a local number. Not in my contacts.
Have you recovered from our excursion on the SS Too Big?
My heart skips as I smile at the screen. Well, then … Guess he wasn’t lying about memorizing numbers. I quickly add him to my contacts and make sure Evie can’t see my phone before typing a response.
Me:I see what you did there, funny man. Def should have used Sunset Charters. They promised champagne + smooth jazz.
Lucky:U would have yacked that up. I gave u old fish and sealant. Where’s the love?
Me: It’s at the bottom of my empty bank account.
Lucky:Told u a million times, you don’t need to pay me back
Me: Told you a million times, I do.
Lucky: Next time, I’ll bring smooth jazz and a barf bag.
Me: Next time, we sit on the dock.
Lucky: How about dinner, instead?
I stare at the screen, hot and cold chills running up and down my arms. Is he … asking me out on a date? That can’t be right. Can it? Smashing my hopes, he rapidly types another text before I can reply.
Lucky: Remember Sunday dinners? Cousins. Uncles and aunts. Neighbors. Backyard cookout? My mom asked me to invite u.
Oh. Not a date.
But that was silly of me, duh. He’s my friend.
Friends don’t date.
